The Life and Times of Pakuna Steelpaw
by Kinotu1
Summary: This is the origin of my Final Fantasy XI character Pakuna Steelpaw. Ended up being a level 54 Dragoon.


The Crystal Wars were still raging, but nearing their climax. Even in this time, the people of the world could find love. So it was for Phylicia Steelpaw and Deeknit Maraba in a small town outside of Windurst. She was an accomplished hunter, and he was a simple smith. He was a humble man, but his skill was enough to warrant the attention of the military forces of struggling Windhurst. A rarity, he was allowed to maintain a trade in addition to his normal duties to Mithran society. His progeny were strong, and so he was allowed this indulgence. Phylicia respected his ability to create. He respected her fierce tenacity in the face of danger. They joined and soon she was with child. Content that the child know both mother and father, young Pakuna Steelpaw was left with her natural father while Phylicia left to resume her duties. Deeknit looked after the child with a doting affection uncommon for males of his kind. He had sired his share of children, but she was his favorite and received the lion's share writers note: Pun intended of his affections. She was lucky to have a "brother" and also several "sisters" that would occasionally come to visit, but she was usually the only one there. Her mother would take her whenever she was back from the front; always with some new scar or story to tell. Phylicia cared for her only child with all the time she had away from the wars, telling tales of her many days of daring do long into the savanna nights. Yet, time is short when you are young, if only we knew to cherish it. There came a day, when mother Phylicia was to come home. Pakuna waited with the gleeful joy she always exhibited when her mother was to come home. That day, it was not her mother, but a different female. She wore the armor of her mother's mercenary band, and spoke to Deeknit quietly. Away from the young kit. When Deeknit returned, she knew that her mother would not come back to play with her any more.

Her things were moved, she was young and she could recover. Deeknit was considered ruined by the other females. He would not have another, could no longer perform the act. Only his art saved him from being a useless outcast. He poured his anguish into his work and created swords and spears of increasing beauty. He heated the metal with his anguish and cooled it with his tears. It went to his work so that his young daughter would see only his smile. So that she would know only the joy that he could give. As she grew a little older, she came to know that her mother had died in the final battles of the Crystal War, falling to the depravity of a Yagudo ambush, along with the countless others lost in those final days. She had been a hero, and had died a worthy death. Pakuna did not fear what had happened to her mother. She watched her father create more weapons, weapons with which others could fight and hope to someday see as glorious a life as Phylicia before they went. She reveled in watching the soldiers come to her father's small shop. There was not much call for his wares in the early days after the wars. A few vermin here and there. Soldiers with nothing better to work on. It gave her father time to be sure that she was raised properly, with proper manners and a proper outlook on the beauty of the world; not the ugliness of its inhabitants. As time went on and the peace did not last, the people came to her father with increasing regularity. Pakuna watched them come and go. She watched them practice with the blades her father had made. For a time, she thought to make the things her father made, but her attempts were flat and ugly, with no life in them. Practicing against a friendly guard, Basatel, with one of her creations, she bashed and crashed while she laughed. She held the blade before her, her creation, and knew that it was flawed. When Basatel took a swipe and cut her blade clean in half, the guard consoled her. Basatel bought her father's sword, as it was fine steel. "Your stance, your moves, your flow... All were elegant and fine. It was only the blade that could not handle your warrior's heart. Leave such things to your father. He shows surprising skill, for a male."

The words were true, but Pakuna needed more. She begged Basatel to teach her, but she was too busy. When Deeknit heard this, he was dismayed and overjoyed at the same time. Digging through things he had long since thought he would forget, he brought Pakuna a spear. "It was your mother's. Or it was going to be..." He trailed off, but it was all she needed to know. The crest of the FliegenKatzen was stamped into it, her mother's unit. "It is not balanced well for you, I will make you a special one when you are ready. It will help you to practice though." Young Pakuna took to the spear with zeal and vigor. She took every opportunity to practice against the guards as they came by her father's. Time went by, and things grew worse in the world. The nations could not put aside their old mistrust. At the same time the beastmen grew worse in their occasional raids. Everyone felt the pain of the terror caused by the encroaching beastmen. When Basatel was killed by a Yagudo hunting party, the pain hit home for the young Mithra. Otherwise, life for Pakuna and Deeknit faired as normal. Pakuna found herself of use in her father's shop adding adornments to weapons. She found she had a bit of skill with jewelry and accessories. It was enough to put a bit of flair to a weapon, but nothing that would make her a living untrained. She practiced when it would help her father, but mostly she simply trained with her spear. She had finally found a friend to teach her how better to fight. Selena was an adventurer. She found herself in the unprecedented position of being a valuable commerce to her kingdom. Her kind was becoming more and more frequently called upon. In the last year she had seen more things than many of the militia groups had seen in their entire service tours. She always came back to Deeknit's shop for the best weapons she could buy. When she had time, she would help train the little warrior that Pakuna was growing to become.

It was the stories that did it. Like most of her kind, Pakuna was a curious soul. She would wander further and further from her fathers shop when she went out. Always to the guard stations, or to the taverns, anywhere the soldiers congregated. They would tell stories of the front lines, of the people they had saved, of the lives that they had affected. Pakuna would listen to them until well past her bedtime, when kindly inn keepers used to her face would shoo her away with a familial chuckle. Finally, her father sat her down, and he told her. "You are too big for this house, my little one. You feel it in your heart. You know that it is time for you to be away from here." Pakuna looked within herself and knew it to be true. She gathered what meager belongings she could really call her own, bid farewell to her friends and her father. She vowed to return to him someday when she had become a true warrior. When she did, she would pay him for the greatest weapon he could make her. He agreed with a smile, then presented her with a simple spear. Her mother's spear she had left in her room, to remind her of what she was leaving behind. She moved then, getting herself a house in Windurst proper. She could hardly believe having her own Mog. She set up her things, and set foot into the city, ready to find what the world had in store for her. 


End file.
